A/N: Why am I doing this again? Oh yeah, to get it out of my head. I've been listening to my Evanescence CD too much lately and this story sprang from "My Immortal." While it was originally meant to express the feelings of lovers, I think it can be applied to this situation as well. Just quit reading this and read the story and maybe you'll understand.
My Immortal Soul
Chapter 1-My Missing Piece
Albus gazed out over the luscious green grounds that were his domain, his Hogwarts. He'd been this school's master longer than he could remember, longer than he cared to remember. He'd seen it through the worst of times, first with Grindlewald then Voldemort. The last had been the hardest, the war claiming so very many lives. Especially his child's.
No, he had never married, never used any woman to produce his heir but this child was nonetheless his. He'd heard it spoken of, some years back, of soul children. While born to another these children were belonged, in soul, to another. When he'd first met this darkling he'd known he was his, and nothing after that point mattered but him.
He knew he'd made mistakes with the boy, hurt him when he was most vulnerable, not protected him from his birth parents. Legally, unless he could prove that the boy was indeed his soul child, there had been nothing he could do but send him home to the bastards and pick up the pieces when he returned from that hellhole. He'd seen the betrayal in those obsidian eyes but there had been nothing he could do! No spell, no potion existed to prove such bondage.
When his darkling had been driven to become a Death Eater because of his bastard parents Albus had thrown all his efforts into discovering a way, a method, to prove the link. He knew then that even if he did discover anything there would be nothing to help his child at the present. He could not go out to save him, though he had tried, he would have to come to him. If he wanted to return, he would, or so Albus had hoped.
And he had; sobbing like he had the first night the Headmaster had discovered the hidden scars on his back he accepted the warmth of Albus's hug, using it as an anchor to reality. Albus had certainly obliged, never dreaming of denying his child this. When the boy (even if he was eighteen at this point) pulled himself under that tight control once more, he explained to the Headmaster his plan. Albus had reacted, he admitted to himself, rather violently, thundering that he would not let his son put himself in such danger.
That had been the first time he'd ever called the boy son. He did not react as Albus had anticipated; a calm peace settled over him and his dark eyes lighted with happiness. He'd taken Albus's hand in his and explained that there was no other way, but he would always come home to his father.
He'd been stunned, truthfully, still was to some extent. Father, or Ada as he'd taken to calling him in later years, a name he'd so wanted to hear come from his child's voice and directed to him. But not then, not when they were in this situation. Knowing he had him, the Slytherin managed to 'convince' him to allow him to spy.
That allowance had been given so reluctantly. He'd wanted nothing more than to sweep the child up and hide him in his Tower, away from the world and its cruelty. But his darkling wouldn't let him; he was too embroiled now in that cruelty and vileness to escape. All he wanted was to get something marginally good from it, try to save as many lives as he destroyed. To an extent the Headmaster understood, but his paternal side hardly wanted to even listen. In the end, the boy still won and when he left the castle again it was as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix.
The years following that were difficult at best, excruciating at worst. Night after night his child would return from those retched meetings, a bit more of his soul torn away. Albus had lost just as much, seeing his boy in such a condition. He'd tried to provide as much of a barrier as possible, shutting away the pain and sorrow and giving love and warmth in its place when he came to the Tower.
Two good things happened over time. One, the bastard parents that had so mistreated his baby boy, torturing him and forcing him to receive the Mark were killed by Aurors. His darkling did not even shed a tear at their passing but would not let go of Albus once he'd reached the Tower. Albus had seen it in his eyes. Fear, fear that he too would go away and leave him alone. He'd tried his best to dissuade it but still it lingered, haunting shadows at the back of the man's eyes.
The second had been the downfall of the Dark Lord Voldemort curtsey of little baby Harry Potter. Albus had not thought it possible but his son had been both happy and sad that night; happy to announce the death of Voldemort, even if it was only temporary and sad for the death of Lily and James Potter. While his darkling child had never gotten along with James (they had despised one another really) he had liked Lily; she'd always tried to protect him, as had Albus, from the Marauders. He knew he thought of her as a sister and would have done anything for her.
Albus had been extremely surprised when his child put up such a vehement argument against placing Harry with his relatives, even more so than Minerva. But in the end he had put his foot down; there was no other place for Harry to go and he was not sending the child to an orphanage. There had been a moment there when Albus had sworn the man was going to suggest that he take him but then he closed his mouth, a dark expression descending over the pale face. "You will one day regret this, Albus."
Over time he had seen what the man meant. Some part of him broke away that night that he'd left that dark-haired babe on the doorsteps of those muggles. Whatever that part was it nagged at him greatly over the years. He remembered that night so well, convincing Minerva that Harry would have a good life with his relatives. Looking back on it now it seemed as though he were trying to convince himself more than anyone else. But there was nothing he could do. Unless another relative stepped forward, Harry would have to remain at the Dursleys.
His child had not spoken to him for a week after that night. He'd been there too, hidden in the shadows that concealed him so well. But Albus had felt him, felt those obsidian eyes boring into him as he laid the infant down. They had almost caused him to snatch the boy back up into his arms but he'd restrained himself somehow.
Years had passed but the subject of Harry was still a sore one between them so they avoided it as often as possible. To do this Albus had once more thrown himself into his work of finding a way to prove the bonds of soul children. It had taken him six years but finally it was done. He'd run down the hallways towards the dungeons, a grin plastered stupidly on his face. Ever wonder why some people doubted his sanity? Well, if they hadn't before then they did after that. He'd burst into the rooms, calling his son's name but receiving no response. A quick search of the rooms proved fruitless. Nothing was disturbed, all was as it should be, but where was his darkling child? A subsequent search of the castle proved to be just as rewarding and Albus had found himself at wits end; where was his child?
When it was obvious he was no where within a ten kilometer radius of the Hogwarts grounds the Headmaster had reported him missing to the Ministry. They had responded sluggishly, obviously not wanting to waste 'valuable' resources on finding one missing ex-Death Eater.
To say that Albus had been furious was an understatement. He had been very tempted to turn the Ministry upside down and fire a few flaming spells at some arses to get them in gear but Minerva had restrained him, barely. He knew his child would not want him to do that, would not want him to get into trouble, not on his account.
Days had passed into first weeks, then months and now it had been a year since the disappearance of his beloved Potions Master. No trace of the man was ever found. It was Albus's sincerest regret that he never got to tell his child how much he loved him, how he planned to make him officially his son by adopting him. That would have certainly turned some heads and raised questions but he wouldn't have cared. He loved Severus Snape as his own and always had.
A sigh rent from Albus. 'Severus, my child, where are you?"
(End of Chapter One)
A/N: Well, what did you think? Probably really rough but I only wrote it in two sittings. I promise this will be a definite unique beginning, or, at least as unique as I can make it. Thank you for sparing your time on my lonely little fic and please have mercy on it by reviewing, it offers encouragement. All flames will be used to roast Vernon and Umbitch, just so you know. PLEASE REVIEW!!!